


Verses, Bashō, and the Forest

by RinoaDestiny



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Firebois being poetry geeks, Fluff, Kusanagi Shizuka - Freeform, M/M, Some Iori headcanon, a quiet moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinoaDestiny/pseuds/RinoaDestiny
Summary: During the pandemic, Iori mails Kyo books on classical Japanese poetry. While they are appreciated, Kyo wouldn't mind something closer to his tastes. He needn't have worried. (Kyo/Iori)
Relationships: Kusanagi Kyou/Yagami Iori
Kudos: 3





	Verses, Bashō, and the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of my headcanon on Iori is that he was tutored growing up as a child on the Yagami family estate. Part of that tutelage was in classical Japanese literature and poetry, so while he doesn't flaunt it, it is something he enjoys. Poetry is listed as one of Kyo's favorite hobbies in his bios and he does write his own, but apparently they aren't very good, haha. Got to wondering what the boys would do during the pandemic and the idea of Iori shipping poetry books to Kyo came to life. Has to be Kyo/Iori for that to work, so here it is.
> 
> _King of Fighters and all associated characters belong to SNK._
> 
> Also cross-posted on FFN.

"Kyo!" His mom called, drawing his attention past his open bedroom door and towards the corridor. Placing his cell phone down on his desk, he got out of his chair and ambled into the hallway. It was afternoon, a lazy comfortable day, but they stayed at home and didn't venture outside unless necessary. With the pandemic rampaging across the world and spreading in Japan, they didn't want to take chances.

The downside was a sudden limitation in his outdoor activities.

If it wasn't for the few hobbies he had, he'd be bored out of his skull and stir-crazy by now. He needed to take care of his bike – a good washing, waxing, and making sure the parts weren't rusted – and that didn't require going beyond the estate's gate. He could always do that later, because Shizuka Kusanagi – Mom – waited for him, a package in one gloved hand.

There was a twinkle in her eye. "You're going to need a bookshelf soon."

Kyo took the package, glanced at the label, and snorted. He needed to wipe the box down first before opening it, but there was no mistaking the sender. "If it's another book on Bashō, I'm gonna strangle him."

"Now, Kyo…that's not nice to say about a gift."

His mother's amusement wasn't new. It hadn't been after she got acclimated to his and Iori's changed relationship and it only increased when their past rivalry turned into…this. Yagami had his ways of showing affection and concern, even if they hinged on subtle or sometimes obvious pokes at Kyo's failings. One of them apparently was his love of poetry and writing it.

Iori, also confined indoors, had started shipping him compilations on classical Japanese poetry. At first, Kyo was surprised – Yagami had sent a note with the first one, stating now was a good time to improve – with the bound volume he received. But after a growing collection of books on Bashō, essays on Edo-era poetry ad nauseam, he wanted something _different_.

Classical poetry was…classic, but he wrote beyond that.

Had Iori ever heard of modern poetry? Freestyle?

He must've made a face because his mom laughed. "Enjoy your new book. You can tell me the details at dinner."

"I can hear Dad now: 'So what book did your boyfriend give you _this_ time, son?'" If he eye-rolled any harder, he'd see the place upside-down. Now that his dad no longer gave him a hard time about Iori Yagami being his significant other – about time, that! – the godawful teasing ran full steam with Saisyu Kusanagi. It was just as well Yagami hadn't set foot in the Kusanagi estate yet.

"He means well," his mom said, her own tone light with teasing; somehow, he didn't mind it as much. "Allow your dad his jokes. He's just a bit sore about not having grandkids."

Kyo made a sound short of spluttering.

"I'll leave you to your new gift." He swore his mom winked at him – Shizuka Kusanagi winking! – as she gracefully turned and left, soft blue kimono sleeves marking her exit like clouds skimming across the sky. A creative turn of phrase, which reminded him…

He looked down at the box in his hand and wondered.

Grabbed a few wet wipes and took them with him back to his room. Sat on the bed, thoroughly wiped the package down, and then used his hands to rip open the cardboard. Translucent plastic wrapping greeted him and then something else entirely.

He lifted the contents out, placing the box to the side. Besides the slender volume in his hands – cover bright with bold colorful _kanji_ spelling out the title and authors – Yagami had sent him some writing materials. Paper of a unique texture and color, several sticks of ink, a carefully-wrapped brush, and even a particular brand of pen. On top of all that was a note, carefully taped to avoid damaging the finer material.

_If this holds your interest better, I'm pleased. There are other things besides, so you can't tell me you're not practicing. The classical poets may bore you, but they were first. Don't forget, Kyo – I write song lyrics. I do understand other forms besides the one I'm accustomed to. [Trees wait idly in a snowstorm / A solitary figure on a hill / For there is the forest, stretching far.] Yours, Iori._

Yagami's sharp tight script on smooth paper lightly speckled with gold.

He still had the others from before, for Iori always accompanied each book with his own handwritten note. They were to the point – nothing one could really call romantic – but each one had a poem. Nature, loneliness, and quietness upon the world, as if Yagami expected (or wanted) these in his life.

He put the writing materials aside and flipped open the book. Contemporary poetry without rigid adherence to form, crazy punning, and sheer joy and abandon in the writing. He recognized a few names here and there, for there were established poets among the rising surge of new ones.

Maybe one day, he could try his hand at something like this.

Kyo retrieved his phone from his desk and speed-dialed one specific number. Waited, listening to the standard ring tone before it ended. "Kyo?" he heard over the line, Yagami's voice deep and relaxed.

"Got your gift," he said, looking down at the book in his hand.

"You like it?" Yagami's tone hadn't changed, yet Kyo sensed the slightest edge of nervousness behind it. "It's rather popular, so I thought…"

"I was ready for yet another book on that infernal poet."

Over the line, Iori snorted loud and clear.

"This is perfect, though. Thank you."

"Maybe you can send some poetry my way. I can't be the only one writing them to you." A small silence. "How are you doing, Kyo? Everyone healthy?"

"Mom's chipper as ever."

"Your old man?"

"Making bad jokes. You know he's gonna ask later."

"That doesn't surprise me," Iori said dryly over the other end.

Kyo laughed.

"Stay healthy, Kyo."

"What about you, Iori?" He'd shifted into given name basis recently and while Yagami still preferred his old way of address, Kyo believed it signified a step above what they used to be. No use hiding it, he thought. "How are you holding up?"

"The band decided to postpone all concerts until this passes." He could almost see Iori shrugging. "Go out for food and supplies, mostly. I have a mask, don't worry."

"Good."

"Write me some poetry, Kyo. If you think Bashō's stuffy and old, then show me some of this new stuff. Unless you haven't worked on it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked with mock offense.

"Lack of effort," Iori deadpanned, followed by the sound of him smirking.

Kyo grinned. "Two warrior poets."

"Wouldn't go that far."

"And all this time, I wondered how you put a sentence together."

"Very funny."

The book was a new weight in his hand, waiting to be explored. There were writing materials, carefully chosen and maybe he'd pen a freestyle poem and mail it to Yagami. Iori, for all his nitpicking, must've appreciated Kyo's attempts. Why else all the books and the supplies that he didn't need, but very much enjoyed receiving?

"Yagami," he said, using Iori's surname this time, knowing how it'd put the other man at ease. He hadn't prepared or intended to do this, but if Iori wanted a poem, surely an impromptu one would work? His voice fell into rhythm, words pieced together carefully to shape a mood. "Forests stretch far / Companions wait with fire and food / See how the snows melt and brings spring / The blue sky and water are as mirrors." An answer to Iori's poem, solitude with the promise of brighter days ahead.

Silence over the line, full and contemplative.

"I'll see you once the worst is over. Stay safe."

The silence stretched a second longer and then softened, giving way to Iori's smooth voice, strong and sure. "You too, Kyo."


End file.
